AN: Hello everyone. I'm back with another chapter story, though I'm pretty apprehensive about this. I'm posting the first two chapters for you to read and review, and to tell me if it's worth continuing. I was just toying with the idea of writing it because it's one of my favorite plots, but yeah. It's for you to decide. Sooo. Let me know if it's any good. :) Thanks for taking the time to read it. :)

-I own nothing

Derek dragged his body groggily out of bed at 4 in the morning, cursing the hospital for paging him so rudely after a 72-hour shift the previous day. He sighed, rubbing the sleep off of his eyes as he turned to where his wife, Meredith Grey- Shepherd, was sleeping soundly beside him. He stared at her sleeping figure, noticing the way her form curved and her chest rose and fell as she slept, unable to keep himself from comparing her to someone else.

There weren't a lot of things he was sure of in life, Meredith being one of them. Although he would never doubt the fact that he loved her, part of him kept on searching for something he had lost a long time ago, a piece of himself that he never found closure for. Meredith had helped him pick up the pieces, and for that, he was grateful. But he shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts that were sure to plague him the entire day, forcing himself to believe that whatever happened was in the past now, and that he had to move forward. It'd been seven years, he honestly had to move on.

"Calm down, man. I'm sure she's fine," Mark said, eyeing his best friend pacing the living room. Addison had the day off, but for some reason, she wasn't home, or at the hospital, or answering her mobile, and Derek was thinking the worst.

He shook his head in response. "I can't do that, Mark. My wife is practically missing—"

"It's only been 5 hours. Who knows, she might have gone shopping and her phone died," he reasoned. "You know she always forgets to charge her phone."

"I want to call the police," he continued, his heart beating loudly with worry. On any other day, he probably wouldn't have because Addison was flighty whenever she got the chance; shopping and days to herself were among her simple pleasures. But tonight felt different, as if something at the back of his head was telling him that something was wrong.

And then as if on cue, the landline rang and startled both Mark and Derek out of their thoughts. Derek hurried to the phone and picked it up, pressing it against his ear with such ferocity.

"Addison! Finally! You got us all worried and— who is this?" He asked, his brow furrowing in confusion, and his heart tensing more than it already had. The voice was nothing he recognized, the baritone too far from his wife's familiar and melodious one.

The voice on the other end of the line was strict, professional even. "Dr. Shepherd?" the voice said gruffly.

Derek gulped, closing his eyes to keep himself calm. "Yes, this is Dr. Shepherd."

"This is Detective Caden Smith from the NYPD."

"NYP—What is this about?" he asked suddenly, his voice bordering on panic. He couldn't help the feeling of dread that suddenly washed over him as he listened to the man speak in a forcefully sympathetic tone. Something at the back of his mind was telling him that nothing good would come out of this conversation.

"We found your wife's white Mercedes parked just off the Washington Bridge, in a dimly lit area, bad neighborhood. The car's been ransacked, but your wife is nowhere to be seen. We ran the plates and linked it to you."

All color drained from Derek's face as he tried to comprehend what in the world had happened to Addison. The different possibilities plagued his thoughts, but he tried to rid himself of it and focus on the detective. "Oh dear god, she's been missing the whole day!" he tried to explain. "I wanted to call you just now."

The detective nodded. "Normally, people don't file a missing person's report until it's been 2 days. But you're reporting it now so…"

"What's your protocol?" Derek asked hurriedly. "How are we going to find my wife?"

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. "We'll have to trace your wife's whereabouts this whole day. You'll have to come to the station for interrogation," he explained, well used to dealing with frantic family members who thought they knew better than him at his job.

"I'll come now. It was her day-off today," Derek said hurriedly, his pacing more frantic.

"Alright. Come by the station now. We'll be there to meet you."

The cold shower water ran down Derek's bare back, jolting him awake in a flurry of sensations so he could get to the hospital on time. It wasn't a 911 page, though he wasn't on call either. He would rant about the page later, but for now, he had to concentrate on getting to the hospital without any more memories plaguing him.

He had tried in vain to bury the past away, to move forward. And he had, in a way. He moved to Seattle shortly after, met Meredith and married her. She knew what had happened; it was one of the first things he told her when they first started dating. And she patiently waited for him to open his heart and stood by him through all the pain. If anything, Meredith was the personification of understanding, someone who only wished to be loved by a man too scorned to recognize life's small beauties.

In one swift movement, he was dressed in his scrubs with his shoes on, rushing to the car and driving to the hospital, his mind still trying to stay concentrated.

"It's been four months, Derek. I hate to say this man, but—"

"We're not going to find her," he finished dejectedly, his whole being refusing to believe what was happening. "I can't give up, Mark. I can't… let her down. She could be out there, Mark… alone and scared and I won't be there to protect her."

Mark sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "But you have to be practical. You can't put your life on hold forever, especially if there's a possibility that we're never going to find her." He hated himself for voicing it out, but it was the truth and somebody had to say it, to Derek's face most especially. He himself was hurting, but he couldn't allow the pain to show because Derek's pain was twice, if not a hundredfold more than his. He was trying to be the supportive and practical best friend, but he was torn between his loyalty to AddisonandDerek, and his loyalty to just Derek.

Derek shook his head. "What if she's still out there?"

"I hate to be philosophical, Derek, but if you're meant to find her, whether it be tomorrow or in 20 years, she's going to come back to you," Mark replied seriously, the truth in his voice hitting him full force. "You have to start picking up the pieces, man."

Mark's words some 7 years ago did it for him. He finally convinced himself he had to pick up the pieces. Addison would have wanted him to continue on, and not put everything on hold for her. So after 5 years of marriage, he gradually pushed himself out there but still remained faithful to her wishes. And although it wasn't such a pleasant experience to date and find himself comparing them all to Addison, he finally met Meredith, the anti-Addison, the woman who would help him get over her.

He married Meredith 2 years after the incident, but not a day went by for him that he didn't think about the perfect redhead, and what might have been for the two of them had she not gone missing. And although there was a constant dull ache in his heart, he learned to live with it and find happiness with Meredith. Things became routine, constant, and blissful sometimes even, and for that he was grateful. There were times when he would lie awake at night, wondering what Addison was doing at that very moment, if she was scared, okay, or being ebbed away by insects. But he would shake his body rid of the thoughts, knowing that if he kept on thinking about her, he'd drive himself to near insanity, just to be able to be close to her.

His mobile rang, pulling him out of his thoughts, but he was too distracted to question why it was ringing at such an ungodly hour. He reached out to the passenger seat and fished for his phone.

"Hello," he answered gruffly, putting the device on loudspeaker.

"Hey man. It's Mark. I'm sorry to call so early but it's—"

"7am in New York, I get it," he said, his voice with slight humor. "How are you doing?" he asked, wondering how long it had been since he talked to his brother.

Mark laughed. "Doing good. Yourself?"

"Good, good." He paused, making a right on the intersection as he did so. "So why'd you call?"

"Just checking in on you," was the curt reply.

"Come on, I think I know you better than that. Spill, manwhore," he chuckled, coaxing him out of his shell.

Mark was quiet for a moment before he resumed speaking, his voice full of pent up melancholy. "It's been seven years," he said quietly. "I miss her," he admitted, unable to keep the pain from his voice.

Derek nodded, once again feeling the familiar sensation of tears stinging his eyes and longing filling his entire body. He had to take a deep breath to keep himself from crying, for tears were somehow unacceptable considering the time that has elapsed since New York.

"I know. Me too," he whispered. "Everyday." He closed his eyes briefly as the car halted at a red light, keeping his body from shaking profusely. "I miss her too."

That's the prologue. I'm posting the next chapter, and then let me know if it's worth continuing. :D